Pattern of Emotions
by Nyrihaz
Summary: "...And the emotions, when pushed over a heart, can stab and kill and breath life. For life is not about the yesterday or the tomorrow or the today, but about everything together, and the feelings we paint each day with..." A series of 100-words drabbles.
1. Circles

Hello there, Nyrihaz here!

Well, I'm new (not to the site) but yes to the fandom. Either way, I'm addicted to Fringe! And really, the characters are amazing and the show and everything.

This will just be a series of short (100 words) insightful pieces, each dealing with the different character we all love (or hate). Even John (yes, John!) has a few entries. These are drabbles by the way. I know not everyone understand the point of them (no plot whatsoever, just emotions).

Disclaimer (and this one goes for all the chapters): I don't own Fringe, obviously. If I did, Olivia wouldn't be trapped Over There!

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_Circles_

Life was too confusing, but explanations were possible if you pushed the limits and dug a little deeper, tried a little harder, broke a _few_ rules, hurt some. It was in the name of science, everything they had done: the experiments, the theories, the hypothesis, the cortexiphan trials…

But life is a boomerang of intertwining circles.

Peter's sharp '_Walter_', Olivia's haunted eyes… Only on those moments he wondered if he had done real well. The thought would be gone fast, replaced by the matters at hand or a sudden desire for food.

In the end, Walter never said: "I'm sorry."

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Thanks for reading! Reviews would be highly appreciated!


	2. Twists

_Twists_

Of all the songs he would have linked with Olivia, 'A Twist in My Story' wasn't one of them. Scratch that; Peter knew nothing of her music tastes. But the song was on her phone's mp3 files (phone he was playing with for some reason) and he couldn't help but listen. The title had awful similarity to their…_ life_.

The song wasn't bad.

'…_my world just flip-turned upside down…_'

Maybe, it really fitted her.

'…_the whispers turn to shouting, the shouting turns to tear, your tears turn into laughter, and it takes away our fear…_'

Maybe, it really fitted them.

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I don't really know if Olivia would listen to Secondhand Serenade, but, well, I really don't_ know_ her tastes in music. So bear with it, the song just made me think of this crazy but adorable pairing.


	3. Sweetheart

_Sweetheart _

It was the first nickname he gave her, flirty smile, charming eyes, suave voice and all. Had it been any other moment she would have punched him, but she needed him. Had it been another universe—another _her_—she might have flirted back But it was _them_ and _then_ and she could only think (and almost only speak) John. It took no time for it to boil her blood, cross the line: '…_If you call me sweetheart one more time_…'

Olivia Dunham disliked nicknames.

Somehow, when he started calling her '_Livia_, she never minded. More, she grew to love it.


	4. Friendship

_Friendship _

It wasn't and addiction of Olivia's for those kinds of relationships, Charlie mused, watching her talk with Bishop a few feet away. But somehow she always ended on the same train. He had known of her fling and much-more with Lucas; friends told each other those kinds of things around a round of drinks. Then there was John (that was a "secret" technically, but he knew her _so_ well).

Now was no different. It wasn't because of the forbidden aspect. She felt in love with only those she _trusted_.

And she, by now, trusted Peter Bishop with her whole life.


	5. Red

Here's another drabble, in a slightly different style. This one is longer too, with 200 words. Hope you enjoy.

Like always, no copyright inFRINGEment intended. (Couldn't help myself ^-^ What fanfic writer, Fringe-fan wouldn't want to do that?)

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_Red_

"They all taste the same, Dunham."

"No they don't, Bishop."

He smiled like a child, watching her as he leaned back into the SUV's seat, taking with him the bag of M&Ms, and the discarded yellow sweets it contained, that she offered with a scoff of distaste. Olivia really didn't like them—they tasted… _yellow_.

"Well, more for me. And I like yellow," he said, in a would-be casual tone. "It reminds me of your hair."

She smiled that strange smile she smiled fleetingly when he complimented her, the one that brightened her face for a moment; then looked away, fixing her eyes on the road. "There must be a color you don't like on your M&Ms. There is always one color."

"They all taste the same, Olivia," he smirked, tossing a yellow sweet into his mouth. "It tastes of almond and chocolate; nothing there about colors."

"Smart-ass."

He smiled. "But I dislike the red ones."

"And why is that?"

"Dunno," he shrugged. "The color in general reminds me of something…"

"Something?" she turned to look at him as they stopped in a red light, her brow furrowed in concern.

Peter held her gaze. "Something I should remember, I guess."

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Just because it seems that red is the Over There color.

Read and Review :]


	6. Always

Hi again!

Crazy this one has been. My computer crashed and my pen-drive died. Yada, yada... I wasn't very amused, mind you. Thankfully I found a copy of this drabbles. Here is another.

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_Always_

Somewhere, at the back of his mind, he had known. Their love, plagued so by rules they were breaking and secrets he was keeping, was not going to be an always thing. He was not planning on dying, mind you, _that_ just happened. But he was aware, every time he kissed her, that some day he would be Olivia's ex-lover and not the man to take her all the way to Church.

He bought the ring anyway—he _wished_ for an always.

Giving it to her—as the phantom of a memory—was never part of the plan. It never, ever, was.

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Well, I'm not sure about John, yet. But Olivia really loved him, and I think he really loved her after all.

Read and Review!


	7. Fall

Hello, there. Isn't season three amazingly heartwrenching? ^-^ This is a longer drabble (around 800 words) dealing with Olivia in 'Olivia'. I just wanted to see how I could write what it think were the circles of emotions swiming in her head. I would have died of pain if I had been her. But Olivia is strong. Have to say that I liked the breakdowns she had-it made her human. Anyway, read and enjoy.

And special thanks to **QuoteGirl **for her amazing review and shot-out. If you have not read her lovely, intense, series of drabbles-"**Her vs. Her: Dueling Affections**"-then what are you waiting for? Go, yes go. Now! They are goooooood.

:]

Now, on with the story.

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_Fall_

Pain. And more pain. There was fear, too; twisting its fingers around her heart, growing thicker, darker, bottomless with each breath she took... Hope—was that the last thing that dies? Well, it was long gone, between the waves of darkness that surrounded her. But survival, running away, trying, over and over again, until it hurts, was like a code unscripted to her soul, all the way to the very core of her. That's why she fought, because it was part of her, the real her, and she had to hold on, at least onto something, _anything_. The tears had dried, and her throat, sore from the endless screams, was now void of words.

Everything was numb.

There was _his_ name, too, somewhere, at the back of her mind, ever-present, breathing.

…_Peter_…

The needles didn't hurt the skin anymore, but she felt the toxins and someone else bloods—_her _blood—run through her vein. In a way, ironically, like a paradox, it was still her blood.

The thought of loosing herself, to herself, sickened her.

She had to run away. She had to go back to her world; find a doorway, a crack, somehow, someway. The rush of adrenaline was all she felt; she punched and kicked and just moved, like a robot programmed to kill to survive (but she had been made for that after all: a soldier in the army of universe-wars). Surrounded, she felt the last ounce of sanity escape her grasp. And he jumped.

Falling; she was just falling, helpless and hopeless. The waters were cold, so cold. But everything else felt colder.

Pulling her gun on a civilian was not something she should have done—possibly. But she was desperate, followed. There was no other option. She was not going to kill the man, but fear made anyone act and she needed to think… the taxi felt right. The man thought she was crazy (she was pointing a gun at him; she was screaming nonsense about being followed; she was running around in a hospital gun, wet) but she wasn't crazy. Or maybe she was? Had it really all been just a product of her mind?

…_Peter…_

Was she in love with an invention? No, no, no, no…

They were trying to confuse her, convince her of being the other her. They were playing with her mind, with her memories. Were they trying to brainwash her? Were they succeeding?

She was not going to die. Not there, and universe away from her home.

When the memories came, they were vague; more like broken strings, fragments of things she should have _not_ known, remember, felt… so vividly, so clearly. Was she crazy? The world, all she had known, was it just her wild imagination? Was anything—anything at all—real?

Dizzy. She felt sick, and crazy. And she cried. Because she couldn't trust her own instincts, her own mind, and her own damned heart, and she was running away, but she was unsure from what: herself or them? The sensations were gone, but the anger was still there , bubbling stronger under her skin. This was not her world. Home was with Rachel and Ella, home was where she had suffered, were she had lost Charlie—her Charlie. She belonged somewhere else, where technology was still growing, and there were no show-me ID's or daily flies to the moon. This was mental.

She missed the lab. She missed Walter, the sane, crazy, child-like, and noble at heart, Walter. She missed Astrid, with her easy and golden heart. She missed Broyles, and his soundless personality.

She missed Peter.

She belonged with him—even with universes separating them.

…_Peter…_

She pointed the gun at _her_ partner: "_I'm not who you think I am_".

Or was she?

She wasn't crazy. But everything was going on circles. Numb, cold, afraid, anxious, troubled… _Olivia_ was _afraid_. Her hands were shaking, and everything was falling on place (or out of place).

She hated yellow.

She liked yellow?

She wasn't sure.

Her mother was dead? But her mother was standing before her, and the hug had felt so real, was so real. Breathe, just breath. Crash, break, fall… Was she dead, if her mind wasn't hers anymore?

Fall!

And she felt…

She was Olivia Dunham, and her mother was alive. She was in love, head over heels with Frank, and her partners were Charlie and Lee and they were part of the Fringe Division. She was home.

But even as she smiled, joking with Charlie, on his car—a car that felt so familiar—a thought still stayed at the back of her mind, ever-present, breathing, calling for her attention, falling out of focus as she glanced at it, tried to touch it. It was still brilliant, glimmering.

…_Peter…_

Who was him?

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A part of me still hopes that Olivia was pretending to be the other Olivia :(

I just hope she remembers soon, because is sad that our Olivia is starting to be the other-Olivia.

Thanks for reading. Review, please!


	8. Replaced

I have to say I love the Over There parts of the show (never, ever, expected to like them so much). Last episode was wicked cool and brilliant. And the ending was golden. And having Charlie in it was perfect-I had misssed him soooo much.

I loved Frank; it seemed to me like he really loves his Olivia, and knows, somewhere, that there is something wrong with the girl that now shares his apartment. I loved Charlie's doubt too, so him, and the fact that Lee was bragging about how much better he knew Olivia was kind of bitter-sweet to me. If only they knew.

This new chapter is a series of threedrabbles, 150 words each, studying the Over There guys and their reactions to (Our!) Olivia.

Enjoy!

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_Replaced_

She wasn't his Olivia, but she was; only different, softer. It was like the Olivia he loved, the one he had kissed good-bye that day, before the nonsense-fiasco he had no clearance into happened, had never come back, but been subtly replaced.

She would disappear into herself, pull back, and when he called her, leaned closer, she would crash into reality, startled. She would smile a small, tight-lipped smile, and her eyes would be so dark, so haunted, so sad… so _green_. For a second she wouldn't be her normal, happy, smart-ass self, but silent, eerie, fearless... in such a _broken_ way.

It wasn't her. Or maybe he was just looking too deeply into things, the crazy world around them finally getting to him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, you just surprised me… that's all."

But it wasn't like her—like his Olivia—to shoulder everything, to pull back, to pain alone.

* * *

She completely skipped a basic, life or death, protocol. It would have been nothing. But it was their Olivia they were talking about—the headstrong agent who never, ever, backed on an order. If The Secretary asked, his 'Liv would go to hell; she would do anything.

The head-trauma was her excuse, but she talked about the sister she doesn't have (he heard her).

Her brain had become a pool of memories that were not hers; and she was fighting them at the same time that she assimilated them. Her memories and _someone_ else's… someone who was just like her: the Olivia he _knew_, the Olivia he_ loved_.

"I'm not who you think I am," she had said to Lee.

Well, he believed her.

Or maybe he was starting to lose it.

And yet, there were two universes, two of each of them… unless he was dead over there (God forbid).

* * *

There was nothing wrong with her. Her confusions, her mistakes, her partial amnesia… it was normal; what they had gone through—he totally carbonized, she traumatized after a fight with _herself_—had been rash, brutal, paranormal in a whole new level (and they worked with weird everyday). But she was okay. She was recovering. Charlie was pushing it whit his theories, with his fears…

Or maybe he was too scared to face the chance of _her_ not being _her_.

When she had said that she wasn't who he thought she was, her gun pointed steadily to his heart, her eyes narrowed, her voice _so_ sure, her eyes _so_ green… he had doubted.

But there was no way on earth for that to be true.

She was Olivia. She was the woman he loved; he would've known if she had been replaced, same body or not. He would've told them apart.

* * *

I think I'm in love with every Fringe guy :D

And I feel for Frank; he's so worried for his "girlfriend" while his real girl is kissing (too much) someone else's man.

As always, hope you liked it.


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